Deconstruction
by derangedfool
Summary: Reflective vignette, Emily POV


Disclaimer: Not mine.

Note: The title is taken from an Indigo Girls song of the same name; also not mine. And, um, if you can't tell, it's Emily POV. 

**Deconstruction**

When she was little, she used to wish for pink taffeta, Prince Charming, and pretty things with which she could surround herself, much akin to the ones that currently enveloped her.  

When she was older, she held on to the wishes for Prince Charming and pretty things, but threw out pink taffeta in favor of propriety.

When she married her Prince Charming, she wished for time to stand still, just for a moment.

When she was pregnant, she wished for a daughter on whose behalf she could then wish for Prince Charming, pretty things, propriety, and even pink taffeta.  

When Lorelai turned four, she threw out pink taffeta again, this time fervently wishing for an article of clothing with a ruffle – perhaps, a ribbon - of femininity and yet, able to endure the protestations of a little girl who wanted to be anything but little or girl-like. 

When Lorelai was eight, she again wished for propriety, pleading with it to coax her daughter into restraining herself as was befitting a young lady.

When Lorelai was thirteen, she wished for the eradication of her daughter's version of pretty, namely those jeans, in such disrepair beyond recognition as clothing once used to actually…clothe.

When Lorelai was fourteen, she wished for a Prince Charming with the patience of a saint.

When Lorelai was fifteen, she wished for whatever she was wishing for when her daughter was thirteen, this time including those cheap stockings she later found out were termed fishnets, the propriety she'd wished for in years past, and for her daughter to be a little less charmed by her current Prince Charming. 

When Lorelai turned sixteen, she wished her daughter wished for the same things she herself did at that age.

When Lorelai told her she was pregnant, she wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole, and in unlikely event of that occurrence, she wished for an explanation for how and why.

When Lorelai refused to marry that Prince of Charm, she wished for her own sanity, in the obvious absence of her daughter's.

When Lorelai had to leave school, she wished all of her daughter's brilliance and none of her or her daughter's mistakes for her burgeoning grandchild. 

When saw her granddaughter for the first time, she once again wished for taffeta (maybe not pink this time), but none of its former companions, and for understanding – between herself and her own daughter, and between her daughter and this new baby. 

When her daughter took herself and her child away, she wished for the ability to grieve without feeling.

When her granddaughter turned one, she wished for a picture of baby and cake and smiles so she could remember that feeling. 

When she was all alone in big house, she wished all the ticking clocks in the house "ticked" and "tocked" at the same time.

When Christmastime came around every year, she wished she knew what to give Lorelai – something other than too-expensive crystal and silk sweater sets.

When Lorelai agreed to weekly dinners, she wished she had asked for more, but wished she didn't even have to ask for that much.

When she realized she didn't really know her own daughter, she wished someone would explain Lorelai to her, all the time wishing she didn't have to need an explanation. 

When Friday comes, she wishes for the next one.

When she and Lorelai argue, she wishes for the ability to say the right words and still be heard.

When she inevitably says the wrong thing, she wishes they could skip all the histrionics and hurtful cruelty, even if all that's left at the end is the same end that always awaits these moments of disguised clarity…and the seemingly constant need for the aforementioned explanation. 

When Christmastime comes, she still wishes she knew what to give Lorelai, hoping that this year, Father Christmas or whoever's in charge of operations will give her that kernel of insight she asked for.

When she watches an old movie, she wishes for more of the Barbara Stanwyck ones, and a deep, husky voice. 

When her husband holds her hand, she wishes the same feelings upon her daughter, sending up another request for Lorelai to find her own Prince Charming, even if (or sometimes, especially if - when she seems him looking at Lorelai) it turns out to be that diner man.

When she looks at her daughter, she wishes she could see more of herself (more than just the eyes, and the occasional witty remark) in Lorelai, and that Lorelai sees the same.  

When she thinks of her Rory, she wishes for second chances, and baby steps. 

When she remembers herself, she doesn't wish for anything.   


End file.
